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The hallmark of expertise is no longer how much you know. It's how well you synthesize.
Information scarcity rewarded knowledge acquisition. Information abundance requires pattern recognition.
It's not enough to collect facts. The future belongs to those who connect dots.
@ebookscafe #Books #Lifeadvice
Information scarcity rewarded knowledge acquisition. Information abundance requires pattern recognition.
It's not enough to collect facts. The future belongs to those who connect dots.
@ebookscafe #Books #Lifeadvice
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Sun Tzu on adapting:
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“A military force has no constant formation, water has no constant shape: the ability to gain victory by changing and adapting according to the opponent is called genius.”
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My father does not care.
In the same way my wife’s eyes glaze over on NFL Game Day
He does not care
Like talking stocks with six-year-olds
It’s not that they don’t want to listen,
It’s that they don’t care.
Like a butcher at a vegan farmer’s market,
A sober man at an Irish bar,
Like me at your escape room birthday party.
He does not care.
I called my dad when I got my first record deal,
Full of excitement, emotions, feelings.
I said, “Dad, I made it—and the check is pretty big.”
I said, “Dad, you’re gonna have a successful kid.”
I said, “I’ll buy a house,
And one for you, too,
With a gate and the clickers and big open rooms.”
I said, “Dad, don’t you worry,
This is just the beginning,
The tables are tipping,
We’re finally winning.”
He responded like
My 85-year-old grandma, completely unamused
With an iPhone in her hand, like
What does this even do?
Like an American at a cricket match—confused.
He said, “Son, that’s fantastic,
I’m so happy for you.”
You see, my father does not care about anything but my heart.
He knows that wealth and worth have always been super far apart.
And when I showed him my BMW with the new push start,
He faked enthusiasm terribly, like, “Yeah, great car.”
My father’s eyes light up when I talk about my soul.
He wants details of every kid I sang to at the hospital.
We can talk for hours about anything I’ve done for the homeless,
And when my prayer game is strong and I am centered, he notices.
The thing about sons? We just wanna make our dads proud.
We know the songs they like and sing those extra loud.
And I’m pretty clear about how to get my father’s attention now:
Be of service to myself or to others—that’s how.
Someday, I might be massive with my face in Times Square.
Fly only private, lie flat through the air.
Someday, I might become a bajillionaire.
The best part is—
My father does not care.
@ebookscafe #Poem
In the same way my wife’s eyes glaze over on NFL Game Day
He does not care
Like talking stocks with six-year-olds
It’s not that they don’t want to listen,
It’s that they don’t care.
Like a butcher at a vegan farmer’s market,
A sober man at an Irish bar,
Like me at your escape room birthday party.
He does not care.
I called my dad when I got my first record deal,
Full of excitement, emotions, feelings.
I said, “Dad, I made it—and the check is pretty big.”
I said, “Dad, you’re gonna have a successful kid.”
I said, “I’ll buy a house,
And one for you, too,
With a gate and the clickers and big open rooms.”
I said, “Dad, don’t you worry,
This is just the beginning,
The tables are tipping,
We’re finally winning.”
He responded like
My 85-year-old grandma, completely unamused
With an iPhone in her hand, like
What does this even do?
Like an American at a cricket match—confused.
He said, “Son, that’s fantastic,
I’m so happy for you.”
You see, my father does not care about anything but my heart.
He knows that wealth and worth have always been super far apart.
And when I showed him my BMW with the new push start,
He faked enthusiasm terribly, like, “Yeah, great car.”
My father’s eyes light up when I talk about my soul.
He wants details of every kid I sang to at the hospital.
We can talk for hours about anything I’ve done for the homeless,
And when my prayer game is strong and I am centered, he notices.
The thing about sons? We just wanna make our dads proud.
We know the songs they like and sing those extra loud.
And I’m pretty clear about how to get my father’s attention now:
Be of service to myself or to others—that’s how.
Someday, I might be massive with my face in Times Square.
Fly only private, lie flat through the air.
Someday, I might become a bajillionaire.
The best part is—
My father does not care.
@ebookscafe #Poem
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To anyone who’s struggling lately,
How are you?
I don’t know if someone already asked you this question. If someone did, what did you answer? Did you say the truth? Did you really mean the words you utter? Or just like what you always do, you pretended to be okay again. You hide your vulnerability by trying so hard to sound alright and too far from being not okay. You probably said, “I’m okay”, with much enthusiasm in your voice, as if you didn’t spend the past nights crying in bucket of tears, wondering why you’re still existing. Or what is your purpose here. I could see in your eyes the sadness you have been covering with your fake laughs and pretentious smiles. I could see how you just shrug off the burden in your heart, or the thoughts lurking around inside your head.
Despite you, not saying what you really feel, I know how hard you’re trying each day. I may not know the things you do just to stay still and stay being sane, yet I know the courage you always have to carry each day, believing how this life is still worth the fight. And another chance. I want to say I commend you, not because I want to sugarcoat your pains, but because I could see how brave you are. Choosing to exist is one brave thing to do. And so staying. I’m not here to make you feel I’m just showering you with toxic positivity, but rather I want to say I believe in you, in your highest and lowest points.
And please know that it’s okay to embrace yourself during your downfalls. It’s okay to recognize yourself when you feel like you’re amidst of falling again. It’s okay to say ‘I’m not okay’ and you shouldn’t apologize for it. You have someone here who’ll accept your vulnerability during your weakest days.
Keep on going, dear.
- Every Wilted Word
@ebookscafe
How are you?
I don’t know if someone already asked you this question. If someone did, what did you answer? Did you say the truth? Did you really mean the words you utter? Or just like what you always do, you pretended to be okay again. You hide your vulnerability by trying so hard to sound alright and too far from being not okay. You probably said, “I’m okay”, with much enthusiasm in your voice, as if you didn’t spend the past nights crying in bucket of tears, wondering why you’re still existing. Or what is your purpose here. I could see in your eyes the sadness you have been covering with your fake laughs and pretentious smiles. I could see how you just shrug off the burden in your heart, or the thoughts lurking around inside your head.
Despite you, not saying what you really feel, I know how hard you’re trying each day. I may not know the things you do just to stay still and stay being sane, yet I know the courage you always have to carry each day, believing how this life is still worth the fight. And another chance. I want to say I commend you, not because I want to sugarcoat your pains, but because I could see how brave you are. Choosing to exist is one brave thing to do. And so staying. I’m not here to make you feel I’m just showering you with toxic positivity, but rather I want to say I believe in you, in your highest and lowest points.
And please know that it’s okay to embrace yourself during your downfalls. It’s okay to recognize yourself when you feel like you’re amidst of falling again. It’s okay to say ‘I’m not okay’ and you shouldn’t apologize for it. You have someone here who’ll accept your vulnerability during your weakest days.
Keep on going, dear.
- Every Wilted Word
@ebookscafe
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